


fleeting

by 228am



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Chapter 9 Spoilers, M/M, like what else, they have old man sex on vanths couch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/228am/pseuds/228am
Summary: in which din takes advantage of cobb vanth's shower and then also of cobb vanth himself.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 30
Kudos: 446





	fleeting

**Author's Note:**

> once again i am dipping my toes into sw fic, not quite sure how showers work in the universe but yeah hehe.
> 
> wrote this a few days ago but i was waiting to have my shiny new ao3 all ready to go! (just a little late to this cobb/din train so we'll see how this takes off!) the dialogue might or might not be funky... like i said, it's been a minute
> 
> starts off just near the end of the episode, the dialogue is not exact!

Adrenaline, Din realizes quickly, is just that much more of a rush after one manages to narrowly escape being swallowed by a krayt dragon. It thrums under his skin, vibrating against his fingertips.

He’s well aware of the thick, corrosive slime that covers his armour, soon to be sticky and irritating and yet, when the Marshal looks over at him, brilliant smile exposing rows of white teeth, squinting over at Din under the harsh, sweltering binary suns, Din briefly forgets about almost being a krayt dragon’s dinner, unable to look away as the Marshal ambles over to him, armour in hands.

Perhaps Cobb Vanth had Din’s attention from the very beginning.

“Sorry, I didn’t have time to tell you the plan.” He says, carefully strapping the Child into the speeder.

In the heat of the moment, Din had asked Vanth to watch over the Child, and to maybe even reunite the Child with his kind. Even now, Din thinks it was not a bad call to make. 

Vanth only shrugs, “I’m just glad you made it out.” The corner of his mouth lifts again, a slight smile pulling at his lips, one hand outstretched. Din takes it and they shake hands. He’s painfully aware of the way Vanth doesn’t pull away, his hand warm, slender fingers wrapped around Din’s gloved hand.

A moment passes between them and then Vanth finally pulls his hand away and puts the helmet and the rest of the borrowed armour on the speeder. He tilts his head a little and says, “The armour, as promised.”

Behind them, the Tuskens and townsfolk continue to work quickly, harvesting the meat from the dragon.

“Can’t say it won’t be missed.” Vanth sighs.

Din only grunts in response, busying himself with strapping the armour onto the speeder. He looks up to Vanth eyeing his form. Vanth’s gaze is intuitive and Din feels briefly pinned, feels something hot rising on the column of his throat at the way Vanth eyes him. It’s far from casual.

“That’s a lot of dragon spit,” Vanth comments, “It’ll be a bitch to clean.”

Din manages to clear his throat, “I bet.”

“I live just in town, you can always come by and get that special armour of yours cleaned off.” Vanth drawls, running a hand through his silver hair. Something sharp, teasing, glints in Vanth’s eyes.

Din considers it for a moment. The words unspoken between them linger in the air. Years of practice give Din the ability to read Vanth easily and even if he couldn’t, Vanth is obvious, bold. He’s attractive, all tall limbs and salt and pepper scruff and despite the flirtation that lines his words, the smile on his face is kind and honest. Din is only a man, after all.

He nods tentatively, “Yes, that would be fine.”

The way Vanth’s shoulders relax is miniscule, unnoticeable, and yet Din observes it with delight.

—

They reach Mos Pelgo by sundown and are met with celebrating townsfolk. Din endures it only for several moments before he beckons for Vanth.

“About that cleaning.”

Vanth only nods, leading Din away from the small crowd of grateful people, the Child trailing beside them in his pod. They don’t speak but the air is comfortable. Din becomes acutely aware of every single burst of pain that pulses beneath his muscles. Vanth is right about his home being close by; they only walk five minutes before they reach the door.

“Feel free to use the shower, there are rags in the closet by the restroom.” Vanth unlocks the front door but makes no move to enter.

Din tilts his head slightly and despite the helmet in the way, Vanth seems to catch the inquisitive action.

“Figured you wanted some privacy,” Vanth says with a shrug, “What with your Mandalorian creed and all.” He smiles crookedly at Din before turning his attention towards the Child.

“I’ll take the little one down to the cantina.” Vanth reaches into the pod carefully, scooping the Child into his arms with an affectionate smile, “I’m sure he’s hungry and the kids’ll love him.”

Din makes a noise of agreement.

“I’ll be back soon.” Vanth says, and his tone is smooth, words low, promising. Something stirs deep inside Din’s abdomen.

Din waits until Vanth rounds the corner back in the direction they came before he enters the home, shutting the door behind himself. He’s still hesitant about stripping his armour completely to take a much needed shower but he’s alone in Vanth’s quarters, the entire town of Mos Pelgo celebrating the killing of the krayt dragon in and around the cantina.

Vanth’s home is neat, small, with minimal furniture, but clean just the same. The restroom is easy to locate and Din finds the rags quickly enough. He cleans off his armour first, wiping down all the plates with care.

Once again, Din hesitates to take the armour off. Vanth is trustworthy enough and hasn’t given Din a reason to doubt his intentions yet but even so, it feels wrong to take his armour off in a place that isn’t the _Razor Crest._

After another moment of hesitation, Din locks the door of the restroom and strips the armour quickly. The need to be clean of the sweat and grime wins. His hair is damp with sweat when he removes his helmet and Din runs a hand through it with a sigh, stepping into the shower.

The water is hot, comforting, soothing Din’s sore body instantly. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to let a krayt dragon swallow him whole, even if his plan had worked brilliantly. Besides, the look of _awe_ and something more that Din can’t quite pinpoint, on Vanth’s face after he had managed to escape the jaws of the dragon had done nothing except cause pride to flare inside Din’s chest. Even now, when he thinks back to it, it makes his dick stir between his legs. _Fuck._

He makes quick work of the shower, soaping his body and hair, rinsing it all off and allowing himself only one more moment beneath the relentless spray before he steps out, toweling himself dry.

Putting on the armour is never a quick task but Din works quickly and by the time he straps the last plate of metal over his thigh, he hears the front door open.

“Are you all done in there?” Vanth calls out from outside the restroom door.

Din opens it and steps out.

Vanth whistles lowly, gaze following the line of Din’s body, “Look at you, all clean and shiny again.” He says. 

And then, he says, “I hope you don’t mind, the kids were having too much fun with the little one, I left him with them for a bit.”

“It’s fine,” Din replies, and almost finds himself a little breathless with the knowledge that they’re alone now, “Thank you for letting me use your shower.” Din says, ignoring the way Vanth’s gaze is sharp, laced with want.

Vanth waves a hand in the air, “You know, the armour does look a lot better on you.” He smiles, exposing his canines, “I bet it’s a hassle to take off.”

Din feels his breath catch in his throat. “It is.” He replies.

Vanth had moved closer, when he had done it, Din can’t be sure. Their proximity allows Din to observe the hard planes of Vanth’s face, his high cheekbones, the smattering of freckles on his nose.

“That’s alright,” Vanth murmurs, low and sweet, thin lips parting in a slight exhale, “I can work around that.”

Din’s heart thuds inside his chest.

Vanth intertwines their fingers together, the gesture sweet, intimate, pulling Din towards the living space. There’s a single couch in the middle of the space and Din lets himself be pushed gently onto the couch.

Within seconds, Din has a lapful of long limbs, Vanth’s forehead knocking against his helmet, one hand steadying himself on Din’s shoulder, free hand slipping under the waistband of Din’s pants. It skims over Din’s lower abdomen, deliberately avoiding his cock. Din’s stomach flips in anticipation.

“Mos Pelgo thanks you, oh great Mandalorian.” Vanth breathes, _teases,_ the hand on Din’s shoulder smoothing over the breastplate of Din’s armour, two fingers hooking on the neckline of Din’s shirt, exposing a bare sliver of skin. He doesn’t reach for Din’s helmet, thankfully.

He dips, mouth ghosting over the skin, breath warm, the hand in Din’s pants grasping his half hard dick, pumping languidly. Din exhales and before he can stop himself, he pulls his gloves off, tossing them carelessly to the side. Impatience seeps into his actions as he reaches into his own pants, bare hand brushing Vanth’s as he pulls his dick out. One hand fumbles with the button of Vanth’s pants, his other arm wrapping around Vanth’s narrow waist, slipping beneath his shirt, resting on the small of Vanth’s back, pulling Vanth in until they’re chest to chest.

They struggle for a moment, Vanth’s long legs readjusting, knees pressed to Din’s hips, locking him in place. It only takes another moment for Vanth to pull his dick out of his pants, aligning his dick with Din’s, sighing softly.

Din feels blood rush to his ears, the column of his neck unbelievably _hot_ as he watches Vanth’s slender hand wrap around their cocks, the calloused pad of his thumb swiping over Din’s slit. 

_“Fuck.”_

The circle of Vanth’s hand is tight, his movements of his long fingers deft as he jerks them off, head coming to rest in the crook of Din’s neck, breathing erratic, hot against Din’s skin.

Dazed, Din reaches between them, wrapping his hand around Vanth’s, their movements in sync, other hand gripping the hard bone of Vanth’s hip tightly, fingers pressed into his side in an iron grip.

“Strong.” Vanth mumbles into Din’s neck, rocking his hips ever so slightly. His dick is hot, rock hard against Din’s.

Pain pricks against Din’s neck as Vanth’s teeth graze the thin skin, tongue swiping over the spot, soothing it.

The friction is good, smoothed out by the spurts of precome that help make the slide of their dicks easier. Vanth is relentless, the flick of his wrist unending, the swipe of his thumb over Din’s weeping slit firm. A moan rises inside his throat and he cranes his neck even more, giving Vanth open access to the exposed skin of his neck, pulling Vanth’s hand out from between them, replacing it with his own.

Din isn’t gentle, fingers wrapping around their dicks a touch too tight, just enough to make it painful. Sweat pools at his lower back and he plants his feet on the floor, hips thrusting just slightly in the air, jostling Vanth in his lap.

“ _Shit,_ shit, shit.” Vanth muffles a whimper in Din’s neck, rutting down to meet Din’s shallow thrusts.

Blood roars inside Din’s ears and he inhales with difficulty, his helmet unbelievably hot, suffocating. Vanth tears himself away from what is sure to be a mark on Din’s neck by tomorrow, the long column of his neck exposed, back arching, mouth parting into a slight ‘o’ shape, lips pink, bitten from the effort it takes to keep his raspy moans in. Din aches to kiss them.

His wrist begins to falter, the angle at which his hand moves uncomfortable, but he doesn’t slow down, the hand on Vanth’s hip rising, weaving through the hair at the base of Vanth’s neck. He pulls roughly and Vanth jerks in surprise, swallowing. Din follows the way his Adam’s Apple bobs, grunting.

He’s close now, precome dribbling from his slit, making the slide of his hand slick. He swipes over Vanth’s slit, once, twice, dragging his hand all the way down to cup his balls, hand tightening impossibly in Vanth’s hair _and—_

Vanth muffles a wail against Din’s neck and comes, spurting hot and _wet_ between them. Din doesn’t slow his hand down, even when Vanth gasps from the overstimulation. His abdomen tightens and he groans, arm falling to Vanth’s waist, pulling him in, stroking down towards his balls and then back up, rubbing relentlessly at the slit until he can feel his orgasm crest, white hot inside his veins, pulsing in his ears. Din comes with a shudder and a low, breathless moan. The air between them is undoubtedly hot as Vanth pants, chest pressed to Din’s, rising and falling erratically.

“Like I said,” Vanth pulls back until they’re face to face, a lopsided smile forming on his mouth, “I can work around the armour.”

Din snorts, still catching his own breath, “I wouldn’t call sitting in my lap and letting me jerk us off _work.”_

Vanth laughs brilliantly, stumbling off of Din’s lap and onto the space beside him, “Those beskar plates aren’t exactly comfortable, you know.”

“It didn’t seem to bother you earlier.” Din keeps his tone even. He’s glad his helmet hides the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

Vanth laughs again, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Cobb Vanth, Din thinks, had his attention from the moment he walked into the catina. It had worked in his favour, the fact that he had caught Vanth’s attention as well.

—

Hours have passed, Tatooine’s twin suns long gone beneath the horizon and while Din had enjoyed Vanth’s company, his dazzling smile, the time for them to part ways comes. The Child coos between them as Din carefully secures his pod on the speeder. He looks up to Vanth’s eyes on him, the look on his face familiar, tinged with affection.

“I hope our paths cross again.” Vanth says earnestly.

He thinks of the way Vanth is open, honest, honouring his agreement to give Din back the Mandalorian armour, the way Vanth had fought alongside him, of the way they moved in sync, both against the krayt dragon and then again later, in the privacy of Vanth’s home. He thinks he is almost sorry to leave so soon.

Din replies, “As do I.” He means it, too.


End file.
